


Palms Are The Books Of Lifetimes

by ThatPeskyBoat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gift Fic, I'm going to force my myopic Dave headcanon on all of you, M/M, Movie Night, POV Second Person, Post-Sburb, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Valentine's Day Fluff, Valentine's Winner Prize, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatPeskyBoat/pseuds/ThatPeskyBoat
Summary: Rose and Dave have a quiet night in with their significant others.





	Palms Are The Books Of Lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godtiermeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/gifts).



> Gift fic for one of the Valentines' winners of the HADS Valentine's Day Contest, @godtiermeme
> 
> God I had such bad writer's block when it came to this so I hope it's alright!

Hands are important. 

Hands can tell you the entire life story of a single person from a single touch, from how they hold themselves and how they interact with the world around them. They can tell of someone’s struggles, the days that pushed them down in the dirt and left scars for a lifetime, they can tell stories of someone’s hobbies, of the way that their hands are used to bring a smile or a feeling of deep seated satisfaction.

For example, as your fingertips explore her hands, you can feel all the small scars from the times that she’s accidentally pricked herself with the sharp sting of a sewing needle too deeply; and you can feel how her hands are tough from handling her chainsaw yet, at the same time, so extraordinarily soft from how well she looks after them. The pads of her fingertips are smooth, worn from the way she types such winding messages in her unique prose, and you’re almost sure that pad of her left pinky’s tip is the most worn of them all. Though, there’s really no true way to tell from touch alone, since your own fingertips are just as worn, you’re sure. 

It may seem trivial, but when you can recall each time that you’ve lost a body, these little details matter so much more.

You’re sure she can feel the irregularities in your own hands, the subtle imprints where you’ve held knitting needles so often, or the indents in your fingers where a pen has left its mark for staying too long. You doubt that Kanaya is actually taking note of any of that, though, especially since she seems more fascinated with the way you’re examining her own fingers. 

You meet her eyes with an upward glance, broken out of your reverie from her almost worried expression. Bringing her hand up to your face, you gently brush your lips against her knuckles, and she slowly closes her eyes. The action reminds you of a cat, almost, with the way that they would draw out a blink to show affection. You’re fairly certain that it means the same thing when it comes to trolls.

“Oh come on!”

A loud voice draws you both into the present, causing you both to look over to the source of it. Karkat and Dave are across the room, curled up together on the other loveseat together, actually watching the film that Kanaya and yourself had all but forgotten about. Karkat is yelling about how unrealistic the way that whatever’s happening is, though you can’t bring yourself to watch it yourself to see what he means. Fortunately, his shouting is melting down into a low grumble as Dave’s hands - scarred from battles with his brother, indented like yours from drawing shitty comics, nicked from all that he’s been through - stroke through Karkat’s hair.

Dave catches your eye as you watch them, giving you a small wink. He’s vulnerable at the moment, his shades on the table off to the side with proper eyeglasses in their place. It’s okay though, since he’s in a room with the three people he can trust implicitly. You wonder when you managed to slip within those ranks of trust, though you feel that going on a suicide mission with your brother could’ve had something to do with it. His eyes have drifted from you to the stubby troll in front of him, the slightest of smiles gracing his angular features as he presses a gentle kiss to Karkat’s head.

You look away from this moment between Karkat and Dave, feeling that even the act of simply watching that soft expression of tenderness is invasive. Instead, you meet Kanaya’s eyes, who seems to have been doing exactly what you had been doing and had looked away at the same time. That’s what you think had happened considering the faint blush and embarrassed expression. You give her hands a gentle squeeze, bringing that smile you so adore to her lips.

The room is quiet now, the only sounds coming from the TV. You’re laying against Kanaya’s chest, her hands folded over you and your hands folded over hers. Dave and Karkat are in a similar position across the room, which is probably why the latter of the pair is so quiet at the moment. It’s nice, you feel, to spend this time in a comfortable silence with the people who are important to you. Even if you’re sure that Kanaya has fallen asleep behind you if her deep, level breathing is anything to go by.

Karkat had never mentioned that the film you’re watching, an Alternian rom-com of some kind, was a lot longer than practically any Classic Earth content you’d ever consumed. It makes sense, you guess, since the titles are so long that they’d probably take the entirety of the film to say. Once upon a time, you’d made the mistake of asking Karkat the title of his favourite film: it had taken him three hours just to say the title in its entirety. Nowadays you either ask for very very brief synopsis (that somehow still takes him at least five minutes to say), or you don’t ask at all.

Despite the fact that you haven’t been paying enough attention to the film to understand what in the everloving fuck is actually going on, you’re coming to the conclusion that your comprehension of the plot and romance shenanigans happening on screen is completely insignificant due to the fact that you’re pretty sure that Karkat, much like Kanaya, has also fallen asleep. This suspicion is because of the very careful way that Dave is shifting in his seat behind Karkat. You cast a questioning glance over to your brother, and he gives a small shrug that seems to say “he’s seen it enough times before that he doesn’t give a fuck anymore”. It takes all of about 20 seconds for Dave to give into his fate as a cushion for his deceptively heavy boyfriend, his hands wrapping around the small troll to keep him more secure.

You can’t help the small smile that graces your lips. You’re just so content with this little life you now have.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work and would like to commission me, please head over to http://thatpeskyboat.tumblr.com/post/180256135599/writing-commissions and check out the details there.


End file.
